Men Are All The Same
by calltheangels
Summary: Cousins  or siblings, rather  Kyna and Killian take it upon themselves to step into the Saint's shoes. Title may be subject to change.
1. Toast

**AN- So... I'm not really sure where this came from, but viola! New Story. I'm not sure where the plot is heading yet, but... eh, this story will write itself. =}**

**Disclaimer- not mine. **

Mom stopped me as soon as I hit the bottom step of our steep staircase. "Where are you going?"

"The studio." I gestured to the backpack I was carrying. "Have a project I need to finish." Mom nodded but her brow was still wrinkled. "Kyna, it's ten o'clock at night… you know how I feel about you going out this late….. it's not safe." Her voice was whiney. She was slowly trying to lay on the guilt trip from hell. I could feel my little heart caving. Thankfully, my cousin, Killian, breezed through the kitchen at that exact moment, saving me. Halleluiah.

"I'm going to the gym, Mom. I'll be home later."

"Killian! Give your sister a ride to the studio!"

Killian raised an eyebrow. "Why, so she can be stranded at the studio or be forced to work under pressure? She can drive herself."

"He's got a point, Mom." I hopped off the bottom step and pecked my mother on the check. "Bye Mom!" I dashed out the door to my beat up little car sitting out in the driveway. It was chilly outside. Then again, this was Boston. It was always chilly at night.

"Kyna! Got all your shit?" Killian appeared at my side, holding tight to his gym bag.

"Yeah… do you?"

"Yeah." He pulled out a cigarette and lit up. I wrinkled up my nose at the smell. Never would I ever smoke. Disgusting habit. "Alright….. see you at the plaza."

I took one route; my cousin another. The street lights were an orange haze I drove through, on edge, nerves cutting deep into me. I rolled up to a red light, and as I waited at the intersection, I noticed my hands trembling on the steering wheel.

_This is fucking insane. Why, why WHY are we doing this? _

It had been Killian's idea. I was along for the ride.

_You could always turn the car around. Go to the studio and sculpt something. Forget this idea entirely. _

_I can't leave my cousin like that. _

_Correction: I can't leave my brother like that. _

That thought sat better in my brain.

Loyal to a fault. That was me. And granted, Killian might have been my cousin by blood, but we had been around each other since birth- and he was only a day older than me. We might as well have well be brother and sister, even twins. Most people we met assumed we were siblings, and we never made an effort to correct them. Killian had lived with us since he was two. His biological mother- my aunt- died from cancer, and his father- like my father- had vanished into thin air before we ever knew them. Actually, they probably split the morning after- one night stand. Hit it and quit it, as it goes. I scowled to myself. If I ever met them, they were toast. Not even crunchy toast- We're talking charred and blackened toast.

I parked my car a few blocks away from the ritzy plaza hotel- with sprinting distance and grabbed my bag from the passenger seat. I shivered in the cold air as I walked to the side entrance of the hotel, where Killian was waiting for me. He was smoking- he had probably smoked an entire back between the house and the plaza.

I gave Killian a hard look. "Why are we doing this?"

He sighed and let out a breath of smoke. "The Saints are gone. Someone's got to keep our lovely local scumbags in check." He looked so serious- which is what humbled and scared me more than anything. My brother, serious. He was the hell raising, football star frat boy- he never took anything- aside from maybe his alcohol and cigarette consumption- serious.

"Alright…." I rolled my eyes at the stupidity of the situation- because this was a ludicrous, dumb, _retarded_ idea. "Let's do some gratuitous violence."

**Review? =]**


	2. Dumb

"Oh my God. Oh my God….." I looked up as the door flew wide open and saw Kyna, who was shaking like a fucking leaf. I was amazed she had been able to drive across town to the art studio she practically lived at- which was thankfully empty.

"Kyna, calm down…" Crossing the room, I shut the door. The building was old, paint chipping, wallpaper fading….

I tended to notice details when I was stressing the fuck out. Kyna tended to flip a shit.

"Killian." She threw her bag on the ground violently, the sound of muted metal clanking together. Think the term is 'packing heat.' We got out weapons from an Irish guy- think his name was something like Seamus- definitely Irish. Red hair, freckles, and accent. "We fucking _killed _people. Not one, not two, no- a whole fucking room of people. Oh my God…" She turned to the nearest trash can and doubled over. I went over and held her hair back as she puked. It was the best display of sympathy I could offer up.

If I had known that she was going to take this so hard, I wouldn't have enlisted her help. I would have found some sorry jackass to bring with me instead. But she was my cousin, practically sister; Who else would understand why I wanted to do this?

Kyna surfaced, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her sweatshirt, looking pale. "Goddamn, Killian. This shit is real…. I can't believe we did that."

"Yeah, well, we did the world a favor. You fuckin' heard them before we hit them; laughing it up, trading stories." I shuddered, angrier than hell as I recalled the one guy describing a victim's reaction in gruesome detail.

Kyna folded her arms across her chest and sat down on a metal folding chair. "Yeah…. I guess." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Are you sure we covered everything? Left no fingerprints, stayed away from security cameras, didn't leave any tell-tale marks- no signature or anything. We have no connection to them. I don't think they can trace us…." She rambled on like this for a moment or two. I mostly nodded or gave the occasional 'uh-huh' to acknowledge her. I couldn't concentrate much due to the adrenaline pumping through my body.

Pulling the trigger, watching the body of a thug drop to the ground- I never knew that it would so…empowering. I wondered to myself if the Saints killed for God- like what the papers reported- or if they did it because they were straight up adrenaline junkies. Either way, I agreed whole heartedly with their cause. If law enforcement couldn't or wouldn't do anything about the filth that roamed the city, vigilantism seemed the logical solution. With the Saints in jail, who was going to do the dirty work?

That's where me and Kyna came in. Well, at least I had thought it was. Kyna was all sorts of shaken up, and I had to admit, I was rattled. I chewed on my thumbnail.

"Killian! Are ya gonna fucking listen to me?" I snapped back to reality. Kyna was staring at me, look of exasperation on her face.

"Yeah, course I'm listening." I mumbled, knowing full well she had caught me spacing off.

"Whatever." She spat. "I'm not doing this again." And then she looked close to tears. "I can't get his face out of my head…." She was referring to the guy she had shot at point blank range, right between the eyes.

We had entered the hotel through a side entrance, snaking our way through the hallways. We knocked and then walked in shooting. I remember shots going all over the place. There were seven men in the room…. We got six of them almost immediately, right as they were reaching for their own weapons. I had been searching the place for cash- easy enough to take and stash, or maybe some whisky or vodka to take with me. Kyna had been standing in the middle of the room, looking around at the dead men, whispering a prayer or something. They didn't deserve it. Damn their souls to hell. A man came out of nowhere and pointed a gun right at Kyna, demanding that she get down on her knees. Kyna reacted instantly; she fired and he crumpled to the floor, blood spraying all over the white carpet and furniture. We left right after that; I don't think I've ever seen Kyna run that fast ever in my life.

I felt my stomach shift uncomfortably. Truth be told, it was lucky we made it out of there alive, much less unscathed. If they had actually had weapons on them….we'd be dead right now.

Dumb luck. Dumb luck saved our asses.

"If was him or you. All it comes down to." I said, trying to offer up words of comfort. Kyna still looked sicker than a dog, though the shaking had stopped a little. There was no color in her cheeks and her eyes were puffy and swollen. She probably cried the whole car ride from the plaza to here. I felt guilty.

"I know…." She said miserably. "Please….we can't do this again." I felt a tug at my heartstrings.

Goddamnit.

"Alright…alright. Fine. We'll forget all about this, everything will go back to normal, okay?"

I think we both knew I was lying through my teeth. But it was easier to go with the shallow lie in the name of holding onto sanity then to protest.

Kyna nodded slowly, and then she got up, picking up the bag she had thrown across the room. "What about the guns? What do we do with the guns?"

A moment of silence passed. "We'll figure it out." Kyna bit her lip as she turned towards the door. "See you tomorrow." She said, voice hollow.

I stood in the room alone for some time. The buzzing of the fluorescent lights above was loud and annoying. Somewhere across the state, a pair of Saints were on the move.


	3. Sunk

**Connor POV**

"Eunice. There's got to be a fucking mistake. I am not a father. No fucking way." Murphy stared at the rouge FBI agent like she had a third eye, unlit cigarette hanging slack out of his mouth.

Eunice simply raised her eyebrows at him. "DNA doesn't lie. You are a father to a bouncing baby girl…well, she's not a baby anymore. She just turned 19. As did her cousin, which Connor happens to have fathered him."

"Uh… really?" I asked stupidly. She nodded at me. "Yup. Also, in other news, seems, according to these crime scene reports that Special Agent Brown sent me, there's another pair of wanna-be Saints wandering around Boston. Apparently they shot up the hotel you two started at… seven or eight hours ago."

I sank back into the pillows on the bed. This was all just too much for my head to process. We were in a motel room, carefully nestled in the heart of Boston. I felt drained; Murphy and I hadn't planned on breaking out of the Hoag. We hadn't really planned on anything except standing trial and trying not to get killed by the residents of the general population in prison.

We were only in with the general population for three days. I don't know how Murphy felt about the whole experience, but I realized then that we had gone after the wrong kind of evil man. The white collar, money laundering, drug selling, curb stomping Mafioso was nothing- _nothing-_ in the face of the –evil that wandered around the streets. Rapists. Murderers. Drug dealers- the kind that would sell you out for an eight-ball. People who were raw, unpampered- those fuckers knew how to get by on next to nothing, how to disappear, how to get WHAT they needed WHEN they needed it.

It was fucking scary.

I looked at my left hand, frowning when I didn't see the word _veritas_ inked into my skin. Our tattoos were covered up by some makeup Eunice managed to get her hands on. I understood it was necessary to hide, to conceal our identities. Didn't mean I had to like it.

Murphy bit his lip. "So… I don't get it. Why are you telling us this Eunice? Why are we sitting here? We should be on the road, getting the hell away from here."

"Wrong. The feds expect you to think like that. You're safer hiding out here."

"We can't hide in a fucking motel room forever." Murph got up and started pacing in a circle. Eunice leaned back into the chair she was sitting on, a smirk pulling her lips. She looked different nowadays. Her once long hair was now jaw length, and black instead of red. She looked better as a redhead.

"Think about it, Murphy. Why else would I have tracked down your long lost lovers?"

His eyes opened wide. "Lydia?" he said cautiously.

Eunice nodded, looking smug. "The very same. She's done well for herself thought. Got her teaching degree, works at an elementary school. Raised both your kids on her own."

"Both of them?" I asked, alarmed. "What happened to Mary?"

"Cancer." Eunice gave a sigh. "Shame too. Was a good cop judging by her service record."

"Mary was a cop?" I was dumbfounded. This was far more distressing than knowing she was dead. I mean, I felt awful that she had died, but then again, I had only known her for a night.

"Yeah, she told you that." Murph rolled his eyes. "As I recall, you were too busy taking shots to pay attention."

I stared at him. "How in the hell do you remember shit like that?" He shrugged in response.

Eunice coughed. "Gentleman. You DO see where I'm going with this, don't you?"

"Yeah." Scoffed Murph. "You want us to randomly drop on someone we haven't seen or spoken to in ten years, ask them to harbor us for a while until you can think of a better plan." Murph finally lit up the cigarette in his mouth. "Right?"

"Basically, yes." Eunice raised an eyebrow at him. "No need to sound so bitter. It wasn't exactly easy getting you out of there."

"We didn't ask for your help." He said heatedly.

"But you need it. Can you come up with any other plan? Face it. You're sunk without my help, because driving across the country is not going to cut it. Your faces have been flashed all over television and the papers. People in friggen _Nebraska_ know who you are. This is your best bet. Unless you want to sit in a prison cell, then hell, I can drive you back to the Hoag myself."

Murphy's jaw tightened but it kept his mouth shut, folding his arms across his chest. Eunice: 1. Murphy: 0. Eunice looked over at me. "Any objections there, Conn?"

"Guess not."

"Good." Eunice got up and made her way to the door. "Get some sleep, boys. You got some serious shit to deal with in the morning."

Murph's only comment echoed my own thoughts. "She's fucking insane." I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, falling asleep almost instantly.


End file.
